Into the Bumblebee's Nest
by blossom2day
Summary: "Look at her," Butch smirked at the red haired beauty walking towards us, "I'd tap that." He snickered, taking another puff of his cigarette. I could feel my eyebrows raise as I stared at her. She was flawless. "Who is she?" I whispered. He chuckled at that. "Beats me." He shrugged. Girls like her don't come here, to the slums. But something told me she was no ordinary girl... BxB
1. Different Lives, Same Souls

_Oh. My. Gosh. It's BEEN A WHILE PEOPLE! Haha, how've you all been? Hopefully good! Well, sorry to keep you all waiting so long, but college has started for me and MAN I have been busy! Between homework, my two jobs, and my social life, I almost have no time to write! Hopefully though, I'll organize a way because I love it too much to give it up! Anyways, this is a new story for me! JUST a warning though, it covers some serious topics and is pretty darn realistic. The PPG and RRB don't know each other yet and they don't have super powers. Also, the RRB aren't related to each other, and neither are the PPG. It's for the story's sake, but I promise you the other RRB and PPG are still in this story! Not just Brick and Blossom! I hope you guys enjoy this one anyway though and give me a bunch of reviews and feedback! Thank you! Now…*ahem* ON WITH THE STORY! :D_

_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE PPG OR THE RRB…THANKYOU. _

_REMINDER: THE RRB AND PGG ALL HAVE NORMAL FEATURES, LIMBS, AND HAVE NOSES. They also are all NORMAL- meaning NO SUPER POWERS. Sorry if this disappoints some of you!_

_**Into The Bumblebee's Nest**_

_**Chapter 1: Different Lives, Same Souls**_

_**P.O.V.: Brick**_

My real name is not something I gave out candidly. In fact, no one knows my real name. I am forever to be known as 'Brick'. It's my gang name.

The term was probably a slab at how thick headed I could be. Once I set my mind to something, I go for it. Just that simple.

Then again, that's how I had to live.

Born and raised in the filthy, good for nothing slums of Townsville, there was only one way to live; instinctively. You didn't have time to be nice, think things over. It was eat or be eaten out here. And that was no exaggeration.

I've heard stories about my Pa being the same way as me; tough as nails, salty as vinegar. But I could give a rat's ass about that. Never saw the guy, not once in my life. He bailed out on us before I was born; as soon as he got wind Ma was pregnant. I never liked hearing about my Pa much. So Ma never brought him up.

Wise woman right there.

Ma? She was tough too. She knew the slums like the back of her hand, and let me tell you somethin', she knew where to get a good stash of shit. She was an addict, suffered from depression she said. When I was little, she used to lie to me. Tell me she was sick, needed a doctor.

She needed a doctor alright. She was addicted to heroin. But I got to know this with time, and once I knew, I didn't care much. My aunt who visited only on special occasions blamed it on 'Tony'. Guess that must've been good Ol' Pa, huh? He's good for a lot of things, ain't he?

My aunt was too good for this place. She'd never stay more than a day, and every time she came she'd be alone. My Uncle was too much of a wuss to be seen down here. Supposedly he borrowed some money from a guy around the block and never returned it. My Uncle was smart to stay away, in that case.

Whenever my aunt would come she'd always fidget and could never sit still. Cleaning things, touching things, smoking things. She refused the pot my Ma offered her though. Said that was worse than cigarettes. She tried to make it seem like she was perfect, without vices. I hated her for it. She would sit at the table and smoke four cigarettes, one after the other, her hands shaking. She blamed that on arthritis. But Ma and I both knew she was too young for arthritis.

'Why don't cha come live with me?' She would offer me, but only after Ma had left the room for a bit. I would've been a bad son to her, would've made her regret her offer.

I once pushed her out the door and locked her out of my house. She called my Ma a lazy bitch and had thrown water all over her. After that, I threw her and her suitcase out. Ma said nothing. She didn't thank me or reprimand me. I didn't want a thank you anyway. She just stared at me, her eyes glazed over, her face morbid. She was like that a lot, it didn't bother me.

And then Ma died. Overdosed.

I was 15 when it happened. I came home late one night. Like usual. I had been out with my friends, causing mayhem. When I came home, I saw the living room lamp was on and the stove was on, but nothing was cooking on it. It smelled like gasoline in the house.

I remember walking into my room after shutting off the stove and lamp and lying on my bed, thinking about Mary Fresno. I thought I was in love with her cause she had nice ass and called me hot.

That's when I heard it; my Ma's body fell onto the floor. I hadn't thought much on it, but it sounded like she landed pretty harsh, so I went and checked on her.

Her bed was covered with pills and needles of all sorts. The sheets had been a mess, the room smelling of vomit and perfume. My Ma was on the floor, her skin pale and her cheeks boney. She hadn't been breathing. She died that night.

And ever since then I've been on my own. My Aunt came once to try and take me away, but when I punched her dead in the face and broke her nose, she never came back again. I was glad; happy even. I liked living on my own. I kept one thing of my Ma's though: A small picture of her when she was younger. It fit in my pocket effortlessly. I take it everywhere, sometimes not even taking it out of my pants until the end of the day. I just like having it is all. I don't know why.

Call it weakness or stupidity, your choice.

Everything else in her room I got rid of. Some I sold, some I burned, some I dumped. No one cared. It was the slums.

No one cared if you lived or died. The police wanted nothing to do with us, nor did the government.

We were the ones setting the rules.

And it wasn't hard living on my own. I got the hang of it easily enough.

Was I close with my Ma? I don't know. We hardly ever spoke. But she was wise. I liked it when she told me about the different dealers and the best places to smoke a blunt. Sometimes though, she would cry. When she was alive, she would stare out the window and just cry to herself. It was weird cause there would be no sobs, just tears. I think she hated herself.

Maybe she hated me. Who knows?

All I know is I'm 18 now. And I'm not missin' anyone much anymore.

Not even Ma. And certainly not Pa.

…

**P.O.V.: Blossom**

There are so many things I have left unsaid. So many insults left hanging off the edge of my mouth. So many dreadful glares hidden behind my mask of ignorance.

Around everyone else, I cannot be myself. I cannot express myself. I must be perfect, I must be good.

There is nothing more I would love to do than break from this shell, leap away from this plastic mold I call a body. I hate myself for being so weak and giving in to the whims of others. Because of that weakness to please others, I have become something I'm not. Something I desperately don't want to be.

And it's sad. Sad because I hate who I want to be. I feel guilty for who I truly am.

Is it wrong to want a life free of helping others? Is it wrong I want to be a little selfish sometimes? Is it wrong I wish to fall in love and have a man by my side?

No, I'd dare say it's human. However, I am not human. Not according to society.

I am a heroine, a role model, a faithful citizen. I tend the sick and feed the poor. I address the needs of society through my own kind and caring hands. I sacrifice my happiness for the sake of others…and in doing so, have created a monster.

I don't want this glory, this fame. All I want is to be _me._

Who _am I_? That is a question I often ask myself.

The me whom everyone else sees is Professor John Utonium's daughter; a scholarly man who lives for science and has achieved a great many things for society with his brilliance. He had a beautiful trophy wife who does nothing but look fancy all day long and whom was my step-mother. I live in a mansion in Townsville's finest. I don't have to clean my own bedroom; it's taken care of by my own personal maid, Bobby. I don't have to clean anything in this house because there is nothing_ to_ clean. I don't have to cook either, or wash clothes.

I am Blossom Utonium and I am a prize to be won. I have money, power, and recognition in this town. My father being an inventor, my step-mother being rich thanks to her parents, we have it all. I am scholarly myself and excel in anything I choose to do. If I do not, I am secretly tutored until I get it right…or else I would bring shame to my family. I must get all 90s in my classes or higher, and I do. Secretly, I struggle with math…but no one knows that. I have a private tutor who helps me. Everyone thinks I am a genius, but it's really him teaching me these things. It cost my father a 100 dollars an hour to hire him.

I hate my tutor.

I tend the sick and the elderly in nursing homes and do exemplary hours of community service. More than I need to, actually. More than I care to. I have a scholarship to Harvard University if I choose to go there. I can play the piano with my eyes closed and can play the violin in my sleep. I have a multitude of friends whom I see every day and hang out with every day. Everyone knows me. Yet…

This is not me. The real me. This is the me everyone else sees. Who is the real me?

The real me is someone who craves to live her life outside of a sheltered cocoon. To experience the world with freedom to fail. I want to be fallible. I want to be able to travel at whim, like a bird, free as can be. I want to be able to hate the people I don't like and not have to worry about it being 'impolite'. I want to feel what love is, instead of the gaping hole inside my heart, instead of the numbness. I want to be _free._

But…will I ever be?

Foolish of me, really. I know it cannot be.

Until I realize this though, I shall continue to dream and cry myself to sleep. Maybe my dreams will carry me away one night…far, far away…

…

"Miss Blossom, your bedroom is ready for sleeping." Bobby's voice echoes inside the huge ballroom. I am sitting at the piano, my fingers dancing along the keyboard.

"I do not wish to go to sleep." I state simply and curtly. My fingers become mechanical, the music becoming a bit more intensified.

I hear Bobby's heels pad across the room towards me, the only other sound in the room besides the piano at my fingertips; the sound of shoe against marble.

"But my lady, you've been up since 6. Shouldn't you be getting to bed now?" A concerned Bobby implores as my fingers morph into claws.

"I told you, I shall not sleep. I am not tired, therefore, I do not wish to _sleep._" My back is to her and I can feel her brown eyes on it.

She must think I look and sound deranged.

"But- my lady-"

"No buts Bobby. Off with you."

"But your mother will-"

"Off with you!" I slam my fingers onto the piano aggressively, stopping the tune altogether. The piano keys echo eerily throughout the big room and slowly fade away like a distant memory.

Bobby is silent as I peer at her over my shoulder, my mutant pink eyes serious and glaring.

"Leave me." I command, my voice solemn, but low. She's frowning, some loose curls from her tight bun falling at the sides of her pretty face, lips pursed.

"Y-Yes my lady..." She whispers, her eyes twinkling with concern and hurt. It was cruel of me, but I felt nothing as I watched her leave and disappear behind the ballroom doors. When they are shut, I face the keyboard yet again, my nightgown crinkling as I do. It was a long, elegant lavender one, made from the finest silk. Spaghetti strapped and thin to the touch, it showed off my freckled shoulders and pale arms effortlessly, the nightgown long and flowing easily past my knees, leaving a small train behind me. It was my favorite nightgown because it made me feel like a bird. Free and light as a feather.

In other words; something I was not.

I suck in a breath and let myself calm down again, Bobby's presence clearly agitating me.

"It's not Bobby so much as it is that rotten step mother of mine. I'm just taking my anger out on poor Bobby is all." She isn't my mother. But father and Bobby always insist she is.

Earlier today my stepmother convinced my father it was okay to take away my television time. She said it was 'unhealthy for me'. Just like being crammed into this house with no alternatives other than volunteer work and school, right? Like I needed any of my other limited freedoms taken away from me…

The tramp even said it with a smile on her face. How I hated her…but of course I had to smile back. We were in front of father. I had to act like the perfect daughter I so desperately didn't want to be.

My real mother died a long time ago. She was better off…but I miss her.

She wouldn't like the way I was being treated right now. Like a pet canary for crying out loud.

My mother was a sensitive woman who had a love for all things related to work. She was described as a workaholic by some, but I don't believe that's the case. Workaholic is a bad stereotype. Hers wasn't bad. She wasn't addicted to work, so much as she _believed _in work. Hard work. Instead of just loafing around, having money float over to her greedily (like my step mother), expecting it, she went out and worked for it. That's what she believed.

Other than that, I don't remember much else about her. I was five when she died.

All I have of her now is this small little locket that lies on my neck. I only take it off to shower. Other than that, it always stays on me.

Pure gold, inside of it is a picture of her when she was in her 20s. She had the same striking red hair I did, only mine was much longer, much brighter. Hers was a bit darker and went past her shoulders a bit. Mine was up to my waist.

How much I'd give to be living with her right now, instead of living with my father and step-mother. Too bad she's dead. Father never used to be so corrupt, but Anna, my step-mother, has influenced him greatly. I'm positive she's the one who tells him to send me off to volunteer so much. She probably just wants me out of the house…

I took the heart shaped locket into my left hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Guess I can't count on anyone much anymore, huh Mom? Not even dad." I wince, thinking back to how it used to be before my father married Anna. He had been so sad about the loss of my real mom, Lena. Yet, he had still been kind, still willing to let me grow up normally...

And then she came along. Anna; a bat outa hell. She ruined it all. If it weren't for my friends Bubbles and Buttercup, I don't know what I'd do. I'd probably go insane…

I know, I know, weird names right? Those weren't their _real _names. We just made up nicknames for each other was all and it stuck.

Buttercup and Bubbles were like my sisters. I could tell them anything. In fact, out of all the people I knew, I think they were my only _true _friends…

They don't like Anna much.

Then again, it's reasonable, isn't it? Anna _did _kick them out once…merely because they weren't 'dressed accordingly'. I doubt it was that though. She just wanted to ruin my life some more. I swear…she is such a…

"Why, hello there." I hear Anna's sultry voice echo into the room. I hadn't realized it but I had let my mind wander and was now just staring at the keyboard blankly. I wasn't even playing anymore.

"Anna." I state coldly, turning to glance at her over my shoulder. I wasn't planning on being nice to her. She was alone, so I didn't need to hide my true feelings. It would be fun.

I'm sure she's thinking the same.  
She's so far away she looks like a little speck across the room. I wish she was a little speck- then I could squash her.

"Bobby told me you refuse to go to bed." A dramatic pause, "Is this true?"

"Yes," I blink, hoping the intensity of my eyes can be seen from all the way over here, "It is."

She folds her arms underneath her voluptuous chest and heaves a sigh. I can tell she was busy doing something _else_ with my father before she came to see me. Her brown curly hair was a mess, which is unacceptable according her standards. A spaghetti strap on her nightgown was hanging off her shoulder sloppily. The thought of her all over my father… made me want to shiver.

"Well, why not?" She sighs frustrated, "You must be tired." She makes it seem like if she says it then it'll be true. But I wasn't tired and that was a fact. Even if I was, I wasn't letting her command me around. Not when I had no witnesses around me.  
"I'm not. So leave me be." I stop looking at her over my shoulder and look back to my piano, a smirk crawling on my face. I love it when I talk to her privately. I can be as cruel as I want. I hear her scoff at this…but I knew this is what she wants. She came in here just for this. She wants to fight.

"Excuse me? I am your mother. You can't dismiss me." But her words are drowned out by the sound of my fingers playing the piano. On purpose.

"I can't hear you, you should speak louder." I smile back at her maliciously, my eyes sharp as daggers.

"I said, _you should have more respect for me!_" Her arms are still folded, her big chest perked up, and I can hear the frown in her words. But I can also hear the eagerness, the pleasure she was getting from this.

"LOUDER!" I sing out obnoxiously, smiling bigger, playing the piano feverishly. She fidgets in her spot, growing hungry for more. She loves this. As do I.

Finally, she decides to walk over to me. She's beaming. I can hear her slippers tread towards me quickly, and I know what's coming. I laugh darkly to myself as I look at my fingers play the piano. Here it comes.

3…2…1…

**Slap.**

The music and laughter stop. I am silent as my hair sweeps into my face. She is towering over me. I smell the smoke off her and the alcohol on her breath. My heartbeat quickens.

"Don't you _ever_ laugh at me you little _bitch!_" She hisses, showing her true colors yet again. I am looking away from her. I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing my eyes. She has to earn that.

She grabs my hair and yanks it so that I am forced to look at her. I stare past her, my eyes glazed, lips pursed. We're at our best states right now; our true selves. We're not hiding anything anymore.

How I wish it could last…but…

"And if you tell _anyone_ about this, I _swear _I'll make you pay for it." She wants this to be our little secret. She likes me being her little play thing.

She has hit me before. Twice. I am supposed to keep it a secret and act respectful to her in public. And I do. Around Bobby and father. Around everyone else. Begrudgingly enough.

In private, I show her my hate. And she shows me hers. It's lovely to be able to express any emotions other than fake happiness at all.

"Let go of me." I growl out, my voice deep and menacing. I feel happy though. I feel better letting my anger out. Instead of being perfect, instead of smiling in her face, like usual, I can show her how much I hate her. As can she. It would seem weird to other people, but to me, it's the height of my day.

She lets go of me with one final yank and I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly. She's out of breath; exhilarated. I think she likes abusing me more than she likes having sex with my father.

"Great, now I need a smoke. See what you **do**?" She hisses, slapping me once more, making my hair whip me in the face again. I feel the rush of adrenaline pump into my body and the sting of her slap on my cheek.

I love every second of it. Why? It's better than feeling nothing at all.

"I want to kill you so bad. You're lucky I can't." I hiss evilly, my voice venomous. She knows that threat. I've told her that before. She smiles, her lips are shaky. Her red lipstick is smeared from kissing my father.

"Same here." She coos venomously.

"Get the hell out of here." I whisper threateningly, "Before I call Bobby in and have her get Father."

"Shut up, you know Bobby wouldn't do that. She knows better. She's smarter than that." Yeah, or else the twat would fire the poor girl.

"Then I'm leaving." I get up abruptly. I hope she'll stop me and push me into the piano. That would give me a good reason to claw her eyes out.

"See if I care. All I know is if you tell, I'll cut your god damn head off."

A bitter smirk spreads on my face. Cut my head off? Sounds good to me. Exciting.

"Yeah? With what? You couldn't use a knife if you tried."

Her eyes narrow at that, the electric blue color sending lightning bolts down my spine, "Oh, I'd think I'd manage."

With that, I heaved an amused huff and trotted on out of there. Truth is? I was sure she'll do it too.

…

The hallway was dark, lit by a few dull wall lights that could've passed as torches. The long, narrow rug padded against my bare feet as I walked down the lengthy, elegantly designed hallway, past the fancy artwork on the walls and stylish décor.

Feet marching, I could hear the floor squeak under my rage. I was far from happy or satisfied. I just wanted this to end. Everything. The fakeness, the lies, the loathing. All I wanted was freedom, but it turns out that's the hardest thing to find. No matter we live in America. The 'freest country in the world'…

With a low, inaudible growl, I reach my room and thrust open the door. It's dark inside.

I am swallowed up in darkness, the curtain closed, and one candle burning on my bureau.

"Bobby always closes the curtains." I grumble in annoyance.

With a rush of rebellion I race towards my enormous window and push away the heavy satin curtains, revealing the night. Moonlight filters into my room, the full moon staring back at me. My eyes twinkle as I stare at it, its luminous light making my heart melt.

"That's better." I whisper to myself, touching the window's glass. Such longing I felt at that moment to be out there. The night was so enticing. I wanted to be a part of that.

Instead I was here, alone. Caged.

The fight I just had with Anna relieved me a bit. It was my only form of venting, although I admit it probably wasn't a healthy one.

Outside there was a big oak tree that shook in the wind feverishly. Moonlight shined on it beautifully, its leaves looked glossed.

The stars were out too, shining as brightly as they could. Below was a clear span of grass and some rose bushes, but not much else, the backyard ended here. My room was located on the side of the house. In the distance there was the street and sidewalk, lit by a select few streetlamps which burned eerily, but romantically in the nighttime sky.

I fantasized about opening my window, leaping out of it, and walking along the sidewalk of that street. There were a few houses down the block, but they were farther down, a good distance away from here. I fantasized a complete stranger would grab me and kiss me under one of the street lamps, holding me close to him. My bare feet would touch the concrete, my nightgown would blow in the breeze… and I would have not a care in the world.

But it was impossible. I knew it to be impossible.

Yet I still wished for it each night…

With a sigh, I walked over to my King sized bed and crawled inside of it, surrounded by a light pink canopy. Curling myself up under the covers, I closed my eyes and thought silent, devious thoughts to myself.

'What would it be like to run away with a man? Would we kiss a lot? What would it be like to not have to think about how I looked all the time and what I say? What does sex feel like? Will I ever have sex? If so, will I be doing it with someone I love, or doing it with someone my _parents_ love?'

My mind was racing and I could feel the tears wiggle their way out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I tried to close my eyes tighter, but it was no use. The tears just kept on coming.

'I should be grateful I live this way. There are people who have less than me.' I think to myself, sniffling, 'but I'm not. I hate my life with a burning passion. I can't be myself. I can't experience everything a normal teen is supposed to experience. Instead, I'm like a Barbie Doll. A toy. I'll never know what it's like to really fall in love with somebody. Anna will torture me forever and I'll always have to call her_ mother_ in public_…I'll never be able to show my true hatred for her to anyone else. _No one would accept it or appreciate it. I'd be forced to make amends because I would be in the wrong. It's because people think too highly of me…put me on a pedestal. Well I don't want to be on a pedestal! Knock me off! Make me bleed! I don't know…something! Anything but this numbness…God, I'm going to _die like this. Alone, depressed and __**repressed.**_'

"Mom…" My voice is hoarse and it stings. I sound so little, like a mouse. I clutch my locket with all my might, sobs escaping my throat gently.

"I miss you."

_WOW…Okay! First chapter is done! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I know the story is strange in its own way... it may not even seem like a Powerpuff girls fanfic! But, hopefully, you'll give it a shot. I'm not sure if people will like this story because of its intensity but…hopefully you will. Ah, either way... I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and sorry for any spelling mistakes! I know it may not seem like Blossom saying all this, but I'm making it more realistic is all and adding a little bit of my own OC to the mix. Hope you liked it anyway! Plus, just a heads up, I may not update quickly. I have to worry about a lot of college work, so it may get in the way lol. Just a warning! U-Um…anyways…Review? =] Thanks a bunch…!_


	2. The Rigmarole

_YAY! Chapter 2! Okay you guys, glad to see I've made an impression all of you thus far! You guys really like this story huh? Well __**trust **__me, it's only going to get better! Stick with me, and you shall see the world of Brick and Blossom unfold, as well as collide! Let's not forget some __**other**__ powerpuff x Rowdyruff action. ;) Well, enough gabbing! Please review once done with the chapter! Thanks! Now…on with the story! =D_

_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE PPG OR THE RRB…THANKYOU. _

_REMINDER: THE RRB AND PGG ALL HAVE NORMAL FEATURES, LIMBS, AND HAVE NOSES. They also are all NORMAL- meaning NO SUPER POWERS. Sorry if this disappoints some of you!_

_**Into The Bumblebee's Nest**_

_**Chapter 2: The Rigmarole **_

_**P.O.V.: Brick**_

'Love This Life' by T.I. is blasting from the speakers below me. I stomp my foot on the wooden floor, but I know he won't hear it. He never hears it. Either that or he just never wants to shut his fucking music off.

"Butch." I growl out, but I know he's probably got another girl over, so I won't bother him.

I look towards the television set; it's cheap and new, still yet to be set up. I don't want to attract any unneeded attention to my apartment, so I lay low. Keep my equipment cheap and not flashy. Got the money to be flashy but the not the stupidity. Stupid cops would sniff me out that way man.

I go into my kitchen, pull out a beer from my shabby fridge. It smells like moldy bean salad and cheese in there. Like usual.

I pop the beer open and stare at the navy blue clock on my wall; time is moving too slow. Where the hell is Boomer with my shit? It's past 9. Dark outside.

I may be a dealer, but I'm not addict. That's Ma right there, not me. Butch is into the smoking every once in a while, and Boomer's always happy so I wonder if he's on Heroin. Doubt it though; he's too shy, too boyish. He wants to do something with his life. I do too. I'm saving up to buy a _real_ house one day, stead of this dump.

I don't know if I'll ever do it though, might be too dangerous a living. Sitting there unloaded and vulnerable. A target for any poor sucker. But _I'm_ no poor sucker, and that ain't how it's going down.

I think about Tonya and wonder what she's up to right now. Probably waitressing, staring at other guys like they were candy to a baby. She likes guys but likes me the best. So she says. I think she likes anyone who'll buy her something, actually.

I've seen Tonya a few select times; we've hooked up each time. It's nothing special though, just sex. Nothing to it. Something every guy does around here. Tonya's got creamy espresso skin and sharp blue eyes that remind me of the guns locked away in my bottom drawer. I like her cause she's like a gun herself; a trigger worth pulling. Got a feisty temper that one there. I like that.

But I can't trust her. I can't trust anyone really. That's just how this business goes. When I'm with her, it's limited. I can't be in the moment, I always gotta be somewhere else; thinking about dealing the bench, meeting up with Boomer to get my shit and make it, how to not get caught by the cops…

There's a knock on the door. I finally put the beer to my lips and take a huge dosage of it; it goes down burning.

"Better be Boomer." I grumble, listening to the music pump from downstairs. Walking to the door, I unlock it, but keep the chain on the door and crack it open. Blue eyes stare back at me.

"Boomer, my man. You finally got yourself here."

A queasy smile forms on his face; he looks like he's been through hell.

"Yeah." Is all he says, his voice dry. I open the door all the way, letting the chain drop, and he steps in a bit too quickly.

"You have trouble finding the place?" I joke, but he's paranoid, I can tell. He's not focused, or maybe he's too focused. He's also not holding my shit…

"Brick," he breathes, his eyes looking anywhere but at me, "I need ta tell ya somethin' man."

"Yeah." I narrow my eyes at him, closing the door after him, "Beginning with why the hell you don't got my stuff."

"About that." Boomer rushed the words out of his mouth, making his way over to my television. He played with the cords dangling from their spot. I heard a loud moan sound from downstairs over the music.

"Them boys are fast man, they're fast." Boomer whistled, his eyes shining with fright.

"The fuck? You get caught?"

"No." Boomer laughed bitterly, "But I gotta say, seeing a murder right outside your door ain't somethin' you see every day."

I walked over to my window and peered out at the nighttime sky. Looking down below me, I saw the street lamps and figures walking around down below. Shady; everything was shady. Especially this high up.

"People are murdered all the time this side around. The hell you goin' on about?"

"No, not like this. It was by a _gang_." His words were quick, but he dragged out _gang_ as if he had never heard the term before and wanted to test it out. A grunt of frustration sounded from my lips.

"The Frilly Fuckers at it again?" I grumble, and even though I'm not looking at him, I can almost hear Boomer nod; the invisible swoosh of his blonde hair going back and forth.

"Yeah man. Ha, Frilly Fuckers." Boomer mused, testing out the name. He sounded unsure if I knew what gang he was really talking about though, so he began again, "Yeah, you know. The Jackles? Yeah, of course you know them Frilly Fuckers man." He laughs, trying to hide his fear.

I continue to stare out the window. I knew what he meant; he didn't have to make it known by saying their actual name.

"Hate them bastards. All they do is murder the shit outta people." I mumble, thinking about my last encounter with them.

"Yeah." Boomer was hooking up my television for me when I looked back at him, his hands shaking, "Hate 'em."

"Who'd they kill?" My eyes narrow on him as he lets out a long, drawn out sigh.

"A pretty sort a bitch. She was a _ni_ce girl, you know? I don't know why they did it."

"They get their sick kicks outta killing nice girls." I mumble. My eyes are laced with remembrance.

Boomer is silent. He stares at me, lips pursed.

"Sorry bro." He tensed, really meaning his words. I say nothing; just take another swing of my beer.

"It's whatever." I shrug, "Why'd you forget my shit? I was gonna make it."

"I didn't forget." He hurriedly says, putting his attention back on my new T.V., "Just couldn't risk it, ya know? Too many cops around, they woulda caught me, stopped me."

"You're lucky I don't need it for tomorrow."

"Yeah, sorry. I'll hook this T.V. up for you though."

"I see that." I roll the beer around in my mouth, fully tasting its harsh flavor on my tongue as I eye my cheap television set.

"Butch downstairs?" Boomer queried, his eyes looking down at the floor as he reached behind the television and plugged it in.

"Yeah, fucking a girl." As if right on cue, we both hear another moan combined with an animalistic grunt. I roll my eyes, feeling disgusted.

"Yeah," Boomer smirks, "I think I can tell."

"He's so damn stupid." I hiss, taking a seat on my beat up couch, "I mean…ya know what he told me the other day? That he never wanted to go outta the house again. Never. Yeah, like that'll happen. Says he's depressed. Well, I says he's insane, how 'bout that?"

"Ha," Boomer laughs at the insanity Butch could dish out, "why would he say something stupid as that?"

"Beats me." I shrug, taking a sip of my beer, "All I know is he went out today, so what the hell is he ranting about? And it's not like he's not doin' nothing. The guy is obviously busy." I glance down at the floor, eyebrows hiking up, "If ya get what I mean."

"Oh, I get." Boomer chuckled, "reminds me of the time I had depression, remember that?"

"Boomer, you weren't depressed. You were just drunk."

"No." Boomer frowns, "I was. I didn't wanna leave my room."

"Yeah," I drown on, "cause you just got wind your Ma died and that's why you got drunk. You were upset."

"I was depressed." He insists, but softly, and it sounds like he still is. I sigh, open my mouth to say something, but the phone rings. With a grunt, I lean back on the couch and close my eyes.

"Who the hell would call me now?"

"You make it sound like it's late." Boomer taunts, rolling his eyes.

"It is late." I glare at him, "LATE cause I _say _it's late. Too late for phone calls."

"Then just let it ring." Boomer shrugs, "No big deal."

"Can't." I sigh and haul myself up and off the couch, "Gotta get it."

"Whatever you say." Boomer laughs dryly. I can tell he' still far gone; probably thinking about his Ma now that I brought her up. Or that girl he saw die tonight.

I walk back into the kitchen were my frugal plastic phone hangs and grab it off its hook.

"Yo." I state, voice gritty.

"Yo, Brick?"

It's Butch. What the hell? I listen for the sound of music down stairs and I can hear something soft playing. When did the music change anyway? It's just a hum now, lost in the background of my thoughts.

"Butch?" I blink, "What the hell do you want?" Boomer must have perked up at that cause he followed me into the kitchen, his eyebrow cocked up. 'Butch?' he mouths, looking confused. I roll my eyes and nod, just as baffled.

"Man, I was thinking…" Butch begins, "maybe I should call the whole thing off with her, ya know? She just left. I dunno. Man, I was just thinking…"

"Why would you do that?" I take another swing of my beer; it's almost empty. I give it to Boomer who takes it and throws it in the sink sloppily. I point to my shabby fridge and Boomer takes the hint. He gets me a new beer in five seconds flat.

"I dunno man, I dunno. She didn't seem into it."

My eyebrows rise at that and I scoff amusedly.

"I dunno man, she seemed _in_terested to me and Boomer here." Boomer laughed at that, grabbing a beer for himself now.

There was a pause.

"Boomer's with ya?"

"Yeah man, came here just a few minutes ago. Hookin' up my T.V."

"Oh." Butch says, processing this.

"I'ma come on up then." Butch invites himself and I roll my eyes. Boomer is helping himself to my beer, guzzling it down thirstily. I swear, it's like he never had one before, the way he was drinking it so hungrily.

"Whatever man."

"Nah, maybe it's best I don't." He contorts with a sigh, "Got a lot of thinking to do."

"Why'd she leave?" I sound dull, bored. I think he can tell _I _want to leave.

"No clue. Says she's got a job or something. I swear man…I catch her with another guy? I'm done."

"Ha," I huff dryly, my mouth a straight line, "You'd kill him."

"Dead right I would."

"Well, don't. you gotta stay outta jail for me, got it? No stupid shit over a damn girl."

"Well…whatever man. Just whatever. See you around. Think I'ma go to the gym."

"Gym's closed Mac." I smirk a bit, "It's after 9."

"Not the one I go to." And with that he hung up.

…

**P.O.V.: Blossom**

"Blossom!" A voice chirped from behind me. I stopped in my tracks, avoiding the mob of people around me, and darted to the side. Looking back to try to see who called my name, I see a pair of blonde pigtails coming my way. A gentle sigh and a relieved smile finds its way on my face.

"Teehee, there you are." Bubbles giggled as she came to a stop beside me. She had been running to catch up. We were up against the wall, our backs pressed against the cold white tiles of Memorial High School. The crowd rushed past us, eager to exit the school as soon as possible.

"What's up Bubbles?" I reposition my backpack strap on my arm and watch the feet pad along against the orange tiled floor. I don't look her in the eye.

She giggles again, out of breath, "I thought I might find you rushing out again. You're always in such a hurry! Why is that? Got stuff to do?" She tilts her head to the side, her perky blue eyes analyzing me, "Don't have time to spend with ol' Bubbles anymore?"

I sigh at her teasing, wishing more than anything I _could_ spend time with her. My hand grips my backpack strap a little tighter.

"It's not like that Bubbles." I insist, looking to my right and avoiding her gaze completely, "I just have a time limit to get home by is all."

"A time limit? Oh fooie. The witch must be at it again!" Bubbles pouts, adding in a dosage of much needed humor. I laugh blandly at that, closing my eyes. I haven't heard my laugh this whole weekend. It sounds dry, not being used.

"Yeah. The witch." I muse, now staring up at the ceiling idly. A sigh escapes Bubbles lips and I can tell she wants to ask me to stay with her, hang out, met up with Buttercup and chat a while. But to do that would go against my time limit. Set by Anna. Of course.

I had a strict curfew; stricter than most teenagers. After my full day at Memorial High School, which was a private school by the way, I was supposed to be home no later than an hour after let out time. These rules only varied if I had extracurricular activities to do, such as volunteer work or projects and what not. And I hated it.

"Well," Bubbles shifts awkwardly in her spot, "I was going to ask if you wanted to sign up with me to do this new community service project, but I guess you're already busy as is." I offer her a glance to see she's staring down at her shoes and knee highs. Now it's my turn to sigh.

"Community service?" I was about fed up with community service. I did so much of it, and most of the time it wasn't my idea, but Anna's.

Anything to get me out of the house and make me look perfect to all those who saw me.

"Yeah," Bubbles twirls a loop of her pigtail gently, looking up at me and meeting my eyes, "I figured you might like it, since it's something new and I know you've been volunteering for that hospital for a while now."

Old people and diarrhea. My current volunteer work. I was sick of it.

"Sounds good," I muse, "what are the circumstances?"

Bubbles perks up at that and smiles eagerly at me, a twinkle to her eye. I swear this girl's eyes are beyond beautiful; the blue is as expansive as the sky itself.

"Really? You want to do it? Well, if you want to, we'll be going into the lesser part of town and be helping in a food pantry. Just working with food and people basically. Buttercup and I intend to do it and we wanted to know if you wanted to. Besides, it'll be a good opportunity, you know? To get out and hang with us for a bit? Your mom-"

"She's not my mom." I state, my voice firm, interrupting her. Bubbles gulps at that and looks away, ashamed.

"Sorry. I meant _stepmother._"

"Yeah." I nod once, my eyes burning with pure hate. Not for Bubbles, but for the mere fact _mom_ and _Anna_ would be compatible at all.

Bubbles' eyes drop demurely, sorry to have upset me. I feel bad for jumping on her case like that, especially when she was so excited about something like this. If I agree and get my consent from my father, I'll actually have excuse to hang out with Bubbles and Buttercup! A very rare thing indeed…

"Um…so…you want to do it?" Bubbles gently continues, the crowd that originally forced us to squeeze against the wall now gone. I sigh and rub the back of my head, then let my fingers comb their way through my long, sunset red hair.

"Well, I'm not sure Bubbles. I doubt the Professor would let me go into the lesser part of town…"

"Oh, but you'll be safe! We can even have your chauffer pick you up and take you there! It wouldn't be no big deal! Please? Just consider it?"

"_I _would love to Bubbles. But I don't know. I'm just not sure about what _they'll _say. Cause you know," I lock eyes with her, lips pursed, "they always got to be in control of something. Including my life."

"Yeah." She sighs again, gently doing backwards pushups against the wall, hands behind her back casually, "I know. I just want you to try is all? Buttercup and I are fed up with not seeing you anymore. We want to hang out like we used to, before Anna thought we were mal-dressed, or whatever." Bubbles was referring to the time Anna met Bubbles and Buttercup…and kicked them out of the house for being underdressed.

The bitch.

"Yeah, I agree." I nod, "Don't think I don't. I'll talk to them about it. Okay? I appreciate all this. I miss you guys."

"We miss you too." Bubbles smiles, her eyes a bit sad, but I can tell she's happy to see I'm thinking about it, "If you decide to do it, it'll be every weekend, for as long as we want. It starts this Friday, if you're interested."

"This Friday huh? Alright. I'll let you know. For as long as we want?"

"Yeah, the pantry opens at 12, but we don't have to go that early. It closes at 8."

"Eight at night? That might be pushing it…"

"We don't have to stay that late, I promise. It's all up to what you want to do."

"More like what _Anna_ and my dad want me to do…"

"Well, them too. But mainly _you._ You deserve a say too Bloss."

"Yeah." I stare at the floor, eyes turning into little narrow slits, "I deserve a say." I echo her, my voice sounding dry, deflated, and defeated. A ghost wandering the halls.

"Sorry Bubbles." I say after a tense pause, "but I really should be going now. My chauffer is waiting…I'll see you around."

"Alright." She nods, her lips pursed, "Give me a call, okay? Text me." She goes to hug me, but with a glance of my watch I'm off, darting towards the door, no time to spare. I wave back at her, looking at her over my shoulder as I race down the deserted halls.

"Sorry Bubbles, have to go! My time limit is running out. I'll text you when I get the chance! See ya!"

"See ya…" she repeats, her voice hollow as she watches me run off. I can feel my shoulders tense as I grip my backpack's straps, turning away from her, and head for the front doors of Memorial High School, bracing for the cold air outside.

…

"They said _**yes!?**_" A shocked Buttercup screeches over the cafeteria counter, eyes bulging out of their sockets. I can't help but laugh as Bubbles looks between me and Buttercup, eyes beaming, jumping up and down in her seat. She grips onto my arm and gives it an excited shake, a squeal welling up inside her.

"Oh my god!" She titters, "This is great! We can finally hang out together!"

"Yeah, at a stinkin' food pantry…" Buttercup murmurs, the shock of it all depleting from her face as she stares at the moldy sandwich her mom packed her this morning. It's sitting on a brown paper bag, untouched.

"Shut up Buttercup, it's better than nothing." Bubbles hisses, still gripping my arm, "Besides, we organized this! You should feel proud!"

"Yeah, yeah." Buttercup waves a hand ideally at Bubbles, as if shooing her off, "Whatever you say. I'm just surprised that witch agreed is all."

"I know…" I mumble, looking down at my own lunch, heart pounding in my chest. Buttercup gets up, taking her moldy sandwich and paper bag with her.

"I'll be right back." She grumbles, moving away from the lunch tables, dumping her food in a garbage bin, and heading over to the vending machines.

"Junk. Nothing but junk that girl eats!" Bubbles scorns, "And she's never grateful for nothing neither! That's why we need you around more, Blossom." Bubbles beams at me, "Because you balance us all out!"

"Guess so huh?" I smile at her, but I'm nervous now. Should I tell them?

"So, when are we going?" the words are out of my mouth quicker than I can blink.

"Tomorrow of course! Tomorrow is Friday." Bubbles beams, her eyes never ceasing their undeniable sparkle. She finally lets my arm go and I gently pick up my yogurt and spoon from the table. Everything I touch feels like it'll break lately, so I go around touching things extra carefully. Maybe I'm just becoming neurotic, like Anna…

I swear to god, if I become anything like her…

"Tomorrow?" I scoop some yogurt into my spoon, eyeing Bubbles, "what time?"

"Well, since we're in school, I figure we can go after school. Be there around 4 o'clock. That sound good?"

"Yeah." I agree quickly, processing this, "I think so."

Shit, if my dad finds out…I'm a goner. Anna can't know either. I take a bite of my yogurt, letting it go down my throat.

"Alright." I nod eagerly, "How are we getting there?"

"Aren't you going by chauffer?" Bubbles queries, curiosity and confusion in her voice. I hope my hands aren't trembling right now.

"Uhh…" I blink, thinking quickly, "no. Anna said it would be best if I went with you two, since…well…I need to learn getting about on my own. I'm sure she's just hoping I get mugged though." I make something up that sounds authentic.

I think Bubbles takes it because she rolls her eyes sympathetically.

"That witch. You'll be just fine with us."

Buttercup is stomping back to us now, eyes livid, eyebrows furrowed. I'm grateful for the distraction she creates when she slams bottled water on the table.

"The _stupid _vending machine wouldn't give me my _stupid_ soda because all it had was _stupid _water!" she hollers, sitting down with a scowl, her enticing green eyes fiery.

"What's so bad about water?" I query, smiling gently.

"I _hate _water." She hisses, digging in her school bag and pulling out a huge bag of Doritos. Nacho flavor, of course.

"Ew! Buttercup!" Bubbles protests when Buttercup starts digging into the bag, making am mess. Doritos fly everywhere, it's a chip war. I can't suppress a laugh at the sounds of Buttercup eating, the grunting noises she's making. She sounds so carefree, so happy with what she's doing. She doesn't care about how the world views her right now; all she cares about are those nachos. And boy was she enjoying them! I envied her carefree nature and wished to experience it myself.

Maybe I will experience it! This Friday…tomorrow. My dad and Anna don't know where I'll be going, I didn't exactly talk to them about it like I promised Bubbles I would. Instead, I made something up. If they knew I was going to the lower side of the city they wouldn't allow it. I told them I was going to be working on a big project coming up next month and that we needed to start now. I _also _told them not to have the chauffer take me there because it wasn't a far walk from the school. On the weekends, Saturday and Sunday, I'd just take the train to and from school and get there on my own, since it was such a short walk. Thankfully, they bought into it. Well…at least father did. I'm not sure about Anna…

She kept looking at me with those electric blue eyes of hers, suspiciously. I'll have to be careful about her…

I wonder how I'm going to do this _and_ the volunteer work at the hospital? Wait…maybe I don't have to? What if I just…quite? Anna and my father don't have to know…right?

Euphoria had set over me, excitement pumping through my being like never before. I felt alive.

Buttercup's grunts and Bubble's squealing of disgust bring me back into the now.

"_What?_" B.C. hisses, glaring at Bubbles, "what did I do wrong _now_?" her voice muffled by Doritos.

"Nothing Buttercup," I laugh, feeling completely at ease now, looking forward to tomorrow, looking forward to being on my own without my parents knowing the full truth of where I am, "Nothing at all."

_Yay! Chapter 2 is finally up! Well, I hope you all enjoyed it! Sorry if it was an annoying wait! I hope to update soon! But first? Reviews please! Haha. Thank you! _


	3. A Change- Part 1

_Yay! Chapter 3 is up! Please review! I love them. ;D Also, just so you all know, I edited the last chapter a bit, but not by much! Important thing to know? Blossom is ALSO going to stop going to her volunteer job at the hospital, but her folks won't know. So…what will she do with her free time? Guess you'll find out soon enough! :P Okay, focusing…haha, On with the story! =)_

_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE PPG OR THE RRB…THANKYOU. _

_REMINDER: THE RRB AND PGG ALL HAVE NORMAL FEATURES, LIMBS, AND HAVE NOSES. They also are all NORMAL- meaning NO SUPER POWERS. Sorry if this disappoints some of you!_

_**Into The Bumblebee's Nest**_

_**Chapter 3: A Change – Part 1**_

_**P.O.V.: Blossom**_

Friday was here.

My God, I cannot begin to describe how I was feeling right now! Shivers of adrenaline rushed up and down my spine. My hands were shaky, unstable; I couldn't hold a pen in my hand without noticing it fidget against my palm. My heart raced inside my chest, threatening to explode at the mere thought of later on today. My stomach was in knots, anxious to leave the school but unsure of what awaited me when I did.

I could not help but feel like today would change my way of life _forever._

_Never_ have I rebelled or done anything remotely similar to this! I have always been this perfect goody two shoes that never lies or does anything reckless. While this is not reckless, it is merely volunteer work, it _is _lying, and it _is_ going into the city on my own; two things that are very dangerous to the daughter of John Utonium.

But I…I didn't care. I felt _free. _Freer than ever before! Was this how normal teenagers felt before a night on the town? I could never be sure, but if so, I didn't want it to end!

I spent my day going in and out of consciousness; I would often pay attention to my teachers only when they called my name or made mention to anything that sounded remotely interesting. Other than that I was lost in my thoughts, lost in my feelings. I barely noticed the world around me, bumping into strangers, barely skirting collisions with walls, and drinking and eating without even knowing I was doing it.

"Blossie!" Bubbles had tweeted at lunchtime, her voice as happy as a free canary, "You excited for later!?"

"Yes," I smiled, really feeling it, "Yes!" I had exclaimed. Buttercup had rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a smirk that crawled its way onto her face. She knew how much this meant for me. I'm sure she was proud of herself for arranging it.

And then the time came. The bell rung, students stood up and rushed out into the halls, teachers called out last minute reminders, and I? I sat there, stumped, exhilarated, but too paralyzed to move.

What now?

"Blossom?" my teacher queried, "Why are you still here? You've been acting off all day, are you sure you're okay."

"Fine." I mumble my voice tight and dry. I felt nervous now, no longer excited. I felt _bad._

I forced myself to look around at my surroundings. Take notice of things outside my own thoughts for a change. Sturdy windows, a _smartboard_, colored chalk on the board, a desk with organized papers on it. Yes, I was in Mrs. Lanza's classroom.

"It's time to go, isn't it?" I whisper, but I don't get up. I'm paralyzed.

"Blossom, is there something you want to tell me?" Mrs. Lanza was always my favorite teacher. So perceptive and insightful! Oh, if only I had a mother like her! If only I had my _own _mother back, for that matter. That would be even better…

"No Mrs. Lanza, not that I know of." I mumble, slowly getting out of my seat, eyes blank, worry creeping into mind. My heart felt like it had morphed into a bee, stinging the inside of my chest cavity, endlessly. I don't think I'm cut out to be bad…

"Well, why are you still here? Did you want to talk?" Mrs. Lanza sits on the edge of her desk casually, studying me. She looks skeptical, probably wondering if I'm sick or something.

I know I can trust Mrs. Lanza, I value her opinion…but right now, I didn't have to time to unload all my troubles onto her.

"No, sorry Mrs. Lanza, I must have dazed out is all." I force myself to smile, but the bee in my chest only stings me more. She sighs and shakes her head no, not convinced at all.

"You're a pip Blossom." She muses, walking over to her chalkboard and erasing the colorful chalk surrounding the _smartboard._ Mrs. Lanza hates _smartboards._

I wave goodbye to her feebly, even though her back is to me and she can't see. When I exit the room and walk down the empty hallway, I hug myself and whisper, "You're a pimp Blossom, you're a pip…"

…

"There ya are." Buttercup grunted. Her eyelids were lowered lazily, but her eyes were sharper than knives.

"What took you so long?" she queried with enthusiasm. Bubbles and Buttercup were already at the bottom of the school stairs waiting for me, but I was still trudging down them, heart palpitating.

"Sorry," I breathe breathlessly, "I got caught up in the halls."

"Yeah?" Buttercup perked an eyebrow up, "Well, you ready?"

Bubbles looked like she was ready to spread wings and fly now that I was here.  
"Yeah, yeah! Let's go!" she squealed, her pigtails bouncing around like crazy. I wonder if she had any coffee before this; coffee tends to make her even more jittery than usual. Then again, with Bubbles? She probably didn't even need any coffee to be this hyper and excited.

A nervous laugh sounded from my mouth, and I felt jittery too. It was actually quite chilly, and being in a skirt made it no easier. Thanks private school attire.

"Haha, yeah," I smile insecurely at them, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, "I guess I'm ready."

"Well, good! Let's go, better move it or else we'll miss the damn bus…" Buttercup ushered us towards the bus stop across the street. With a giggle, Bubbles tagged along Buttercup's side like a loyal puppy dog as we darted across the street. She held onto my arm, dragging me along for the ride. I racked my brain for the last time I had crossed a street alone and couldn't find one.

Reaching the bus stop didn't take long, but once there, I felt like I didn't belong there. I felt…unwelcomed.

The bee inside my chest was ceaseless; it stung so fiercely and so ferociously that I thought, for a second, that it was literally real. I couldn't shake it off, couldn't get rid of my anxiety. Everyone at that bus stop looked like a criminal in my eyes, just waiting to fess me up to Anna in order to be exempt from a prison sentence. But…but I didn't deserve to be caught! I was in a prison already! Don't I deserve to have friends? To have freedom? To have my own _life?_

"Blossom? You okay?" Bubbles' voice suddenly breaks me out of my trance and I realize I've been staring at the bus stop sign, ogling it. I blink and look at her to see her eyebrows are furrowed and her bow shaped lips are turned downward in a pout. Buttercup was leaning against the bus stop sign with her arms crossed, directly under the place I had been staring, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Yeah, you seem kind of pale." She commented, a dark eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

"I'm always pale…"I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. I look away from them and think about what would happen to me if Anna found out I took the bus into the city…if anyone ratted me out that is. There were three possible suspects around me to do it too. One: a girl in my AP English class who is chewing bubblegum loudly and aggravatingly slowly, with a glazed over, antisocial look in her eye that read 'psychotic'. Two: A boy who was just coming into puberty, even though he's my age. His face is full of zits that are red and have obviously just been popped, blood and pus leaking out of them. Three: A dirty blonde who's too busy texting to look up and notice I'm even here.

Was I over thinking this? These people…maybe I was safe?

'Oh my god, no, suspect number three is looking up from her phone! Suspect number three is looking at _me_! She…she's smiling! Oh dear god no, that's not good. Smiling means recognition! I gotta get out of here, I-'

"Hey Bloss, what time do you have to be home by?" Buttercup suddenly asks, making my head snap back towards her and away from the dirty blonde.

"Huh?" I blink, oblivious. The bee in my heart had apparently become asexual now, because there were two of them in there, joyfully stinging away at me…

"I said," Buttercup slows her speech for me as if I'm a moron, "what time do you have to be _home_?"

"Oh." I blink, processing this, allowing one glance to the dirty blonde. She had gone back to texting.

"Uh…no later than…" Geez, I can't remember. My mind is flustered. I can't even answer.

"Blossom, are you sure you're okay with all this? You look kind of nervous." Bubbles commented, putting a hand on my shoulder, "do you want to talk to me about it?"

"N-No." I shake my head, looking down at the sidewalk. It was weed-free, blemish-free. That was so typical of my school; they wanted everything to look perfect. Apparently even the sidewalks across from the school counted as well.

"I'm just a little…I'm just thinking is all. No worries, I'll be fine. Is there anything I should know about the city bus?" Bubbles lets her hand drop from my shoulder and glances at Buttercup, uncertainty on their faces.

They didn't look very convinced, but they didn't say anything more on it either.

"Well, yeah. You got a metrocard?" Buttercup says after a long second or two.

"A metro-wha?" I blink, staring at Buttercup with ignorant eyes. She rolls her eyes and repeats herself, "A metro_card._ You got one?" Her voice sounded pissy, and Bubbles shoots her a death glare.

"Take it easy BC! She's not used to this."

"Whatever, ya got one or not?"

"Um...was I supposed to?"

"We're doomed." Buttercup facepalmed herself, but Bubbles just rolled her eyes and smiled. Why did she do that? Why did she say that? I could feel the bees inside my chest sting more and more with each second I devoted to my new, worrisome thoughts.

A metrocard? I…I was supposed to have that? Oh crap, whatever it is, I don't have one. Never heard the term in all my life! What is it?

"No worries, I'll just scan you under mine." Bubbles reassured me, her cheerfulness doing very little to quell my uncertainty.

"Uh…thanks." I mumble, smiling gingerly, as if I didn't know how to and was just learning the process. Like I was a two year old all over again.

"Here it comes." Buttercup informs us, her voice filling me with anticipation. I look towards the road and see the tip of the bus coming towards us from the hill we're on. The two bees inside my heart sting away, making my heart leap and bounce with panic. This is it. This is it.

I see Bubbles and Buttercup pull out two, sleek looking cards but I don't see where they got them from. I'm too busy staring at the bus. Watching it come closer. Slowing down. Stopping. Opening its doors.

Buttercup jumps on first and casually slides the card in and out of this…mechanical device. Bubbles does the same, but twice. Buttercup takes a seat in the front of the bus, which have two empty seats next to her. For us I assume. But Bubbles doesn't go directly to her seat. Instead she looks back at me.

"Come on Blossom!" she smiles, holding out her hand to me, "Come on the bus!"

But I'm frozen, paralyzed. Again. I look at the people on the bus, I watch the students behind me board the bus. The dirty blonde hasn't even so much as glanced my way since she smiled.

I can feel my breathing become uneven, and I feel guilty, bad, and wrong. But…

I take her hand anyway, and within seconds, the door closes behind me, and Bubbles guides me to my seat.

No turning back now.

_Well! Are you all happy? I finally got a chance to update! At least it's something. Sorry it's so short! Well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway! It's my dad's birthday today(November 15__th__), and mine is this Sunday(November 18__th__)! ;D That's right, I'm a Scorpio! Haha. As is my dad. :3 Watch out. We sting. Erm…anyways, more to come soon! The RRB are next! ;D Review! Thank you! _


	4. A Change- part 2

_Hey you guys. Just wanna say thank you to my amazing reviewers! I had a great birthday and got lots of money to go shopping with…which makes Moonica a happy camper. ;) I know you all want to see what's up with Brick and them, so I assure you they'll be in this chapter as well. Just be patient! :D Thank you, and please review. Okay now… On with the story!_

_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE PPG OR THE RRB…THANKYOU. _

_REMINDER: THE RRB AND PGG ALL HAVE NORMAL FEATURES, LIMBS, AND HAVE NOSES. They also are all NORMAL- meaning NO SUPER POWERS. Sorry if this disappoints some of you!_

_**Into The Bumblebee's Nest**_

_**Chapter 3: A Change – Part 2**_

_**P.O.V.: Blossom**_

Stepping off that platform was like stepping into a whole 'nother world. As soon as my feet hit the ground and departed the safety of the bus, I was in a different zone completely.

This place was alien to me, foreign. I had never seen such a place in all my years, and I was almost 18.

With a gaping mouth and innocent eyes, I scanned my surrounding with vast curiosity, the way a baby discovers it has a hand it can use to feel things and touch things with.

There were ruddy, boarded up stores. Store signs that were missing letters. Liter covering the streets and sidewalks like one giant blanket. Weeds growing just about anywhere they could squeeze through. Kids hanging out on street corners without any adult supervision. Kids smoking without any adult supervision. Adults drinking mysterious liquids covered by crinkled paper bags. Dogs barking ferociously in the distance. Traffic jams up the wazoo. Broken street lights or extremely dysfunctional street lights. People wearing baggy, mismatched clothing. People in cars rolling down their windows, cursing at other cars. Rap music beating in the background. Black, White, Chinese, and more races, living in one big meltingpot. Teenage boys ogling at my chest.

This wasn't Townsville anymore. It was a little place I liked to call _Freedom._

…

When we reached the food pantry, I almost passed it up. I never would have thought it to be any different than all the other places around it.

Why?

Well, for one, it had metal window covers. Two, it looked like a house. And three, it had no sign in front of it saying it was a food pantry.

Thankfully, Bubbles grabbed my arm in time to stop me from completely missing it. She giggled at my ignorance as she nodded towards the place. I flushed in embarrassment.

"This is it?" I asked, my voice small. I hadn't said anything since we arrived. "This is the place?"

"Yup." Buttercup grumbled, staring at the food pantry wistfully, as if she had some sort of memories with the building itself. Had she been here before?

"It is!" Bubbles nodded, "I know it doesn't look like one. Buttercup had to point it out to me too, the first time I was here." Buttercup tried to make me feel better, but it only made me more confused. I looked at Buttercup, but her face was hidden from me.

Now that I think about it, I had never bothered to ask where Buttercup, or Bubbles for that matter, even lived. She seemed pretty familiar with the neighborhood; after all, she was the one who had guided us here. She had led the way. I just hadn't noticed it until now.

Did she live around here? I always assumed she had money because she went to my school, which was a private school.

Maybe I didn't know Buttercup as well as I thought I did? The thought irked me.

"Come on, let's go in." Buttercup spoke, her voice sounding a tad bit morbid. I tried to hide my growing curiosity as she knocked on the heavy green door in front of us. The clang of the door gave away the fact it was made of metal. Metal doors? Metal windows? Who are they guarding themselves against?

We all waited there patiently. Bubbles fiddled with her phone a bit, Buttercup stared at the door, and I became fascinated with the simplest things I found lining the street while trying not to ask Buttercup intrusive questions. Finally, the door opened.

In front of us was a man no older than 40. He had a 5 o'clock shadow and a mole the size of a penny on his forehead. He looked grimy, but not unclean. His clothes weren't designer, but they were decent. He had his brown hair swept back, trying to make it appear casually placed there, only I could tell it must've taken him hours to get it like that.

"Hello, the food pantry is clos- Sam?" The man began mechanically, but his eyes lit up on the dime. "Buttercup, is that really you?"

"In the flesh." Buttercup was smiling; I could hear it in her voice. Sam was her real name. The man laughed, joy filling his once dreary face, "Great scot, I'm glad ta see ya! These your friends? Oh, that's right, you said you'd be comin' today! Well, stupid me, huh? Come on in, come on in! Make yourselves comfortable." The man ushered us in with his hand, opening the door wider, moving out of the way. Now I was really curious to ask BC some questions.

Walking in, Bubbles and I followed the two of them down a narrow, musky smelling corridor and into a room filled with chairs. The room had one desk in it, and behind that was a small area I couldn't see too well just yet. It smelled a bit better in this room.

"Are we early?" Bubbles asked, looking around just the same as me. The man chuckled and sat down on one of the chairs. There must have been two dozen of them in the room, and they were all cheap plastic ones. Why were they here?

"No, not at all. Techniquelly the pantry opens at 12, but today we're opening a bit later than that. Around 3:30. One of our members got a flat tire today, and then another got sick. So I'm here with Denis and Jackie, preparing the stuff. So, wait, scratch that, you are early. What's your name sweetheart?" The man smiled sheepishly at Bubbles, who smiled back candidly, more than willing to answer.

"I'm Jamie, but you can call me Bubbles." She offered innocently enough, and the man cocked an eyebrow at that.

"Bubbles?" he smirked, "Well that's an odd nickname. I like it though, fits ya."

"Mine is Buttercup." Buttercup said with a shrug, taking a seat in the back of the room, putting her feet up on the empty chair in front of her, "We all have nicknames."

"Oh?" the man mused, looking at her, but suddenly decided to look at me, causing those bees inside my chest to wake up and sting me again, "and what's your name sweetheart?"

"Um, I'm Blossom. Or at least, they uh, call me Blossom. I dunno, I like it. It's prettier than my real name."

"Oh yeah?" he smiled at me, and I noticed his eyes were a dashing shade of blue, and despite the mole on his forehead, was quite handsome, "and what would that be?"

I gulped, feeling something within me stir, although it wasn't the bees this time, "Kendal."

"Kendal." He sounded it out, rubbing his 5 o'clock shadow, eyeing me pensively, "I dunno, that sure is one pretty name."

…

**P.O.V.: Brick**

Something in the air smelled like fish and it was bothering the fuck outta me. I hated the smell of fish. I swear, it made me nauseous. I mean, I like eatin' the stuff, but the smell is just…

"Boomer, yo, there a fish store near here?" I ask irately, nostrils flaring in disgust. Boomer's next to me, sitting on a bench that's probably been here forever. He sniffs the air diligently enough, making a face to indicate he was trying really hard to find something fishy in the air. Probably because he saw me doing it.

"Uh, I dunno. I don't remember smelling fish before," he admits with a disgusted pout, "although I smell it now."

"Yeah, well, it's disgusting." I grumble, leaning back in my chair, giving up on trying to find the source of the stench. Boomer nods in agreement, but goes back to eating his gummy bears in silence.

You see, he's got this big jar of gummy bears he always eats out here. I guess it doesn't bother him, the fact we're out in the open dealing drugs. If it does, he don't show it.

But me? I can never eat anything out here. Not while I'm at work. It'd do a number on my stomach, that's for sure. That and it'd distract me. I'm one of those rare people who like to focus intently on what I'm doing, instead of doing a half ass job at it. Even when it comes to food, I like to give it my all. If I'm eating, I wanna eat. Not deal the bench.

"Slow day today, huh Brick?" Butch muses after a few minutes pass. Butch is behind me, sitting on a foldable chair, like I am. I can hear the pages of a magazine flip. He must be looking at playboy; the guy wouldn't look at anything else.

"Yeah." I agree, kind of grateful it was. Half the time, stupid kids are always running up to me, asking me for dope but never wanting to pay for it.

'I'll pay ya back Brick, honest I will. Give me a week, no longer than a week. I just need it _now._' They're always liars. I never deal to punks like that. You gotta pay up front with me.

One good thing about living in this part of town is the lack of cops. The cops could care less about what we do and how we deal. They don't go on patrols, they don't make arrests, and they don't come by and give stupid ass dickey checks to degrade us. The cops here aren't assholes like that, although they ain't helping us much either. They're just passive.

If you're a drug dealer like me, that's all you could ever ask for, trust me.

I've worked in other cities before. Little side jobs. Let me tell you, that was one hell of a mistake. Cops in other cities are different. And I don't even _try_ to sell to the upper part of Townsville. Cops are assholes over there, so I avoid it. They won't come anywhere near the slums though. Too dirty for them I guess.

The only thing cops do here is look for anything suspicious. Like murders, or people they _know_ have drugs on them. They got records of us, you know? They know who I am and what I do, but as long as I'm clean and got nothing on me, I'm fine. Also, I got to watch my apartment. If I ever get anything too flashy, it ain't good. See, its cause they know what I do to get that crap, and then they have the right to say something, cause they can prove I deal drugs. That's the suckish part about living in Townsville. You can't do anything about your life. You always got to stay where you are. You can't become rich even if you are rich.

I kind of wonder sometimes if it's all worth it. I got all this money but nothing to do with it. I have to hide it, stash it, and keep it safe, but what's it doing for me? I can't go on no vacations. Can't buy anything fancy. No real estate neither. So what the fuck right?

Guess the real reason I do it is because I got nothing _else_ to do. This city provides nothing for people like us. And that's the truth.

"Yo, Brick," Wheeze catches me off guard, staring at me with those big old brown eyes of his, "I got laid last night man. I got _laid._" He tells me, words coming out quick and breathless. I scoff at the kid, but decide to humor him. Wheeze was one of the other kids who worked the bench too.

"Laid?" I ask him, "who the hell would wanna do you?'

"This chick man, this chick. She hot."

"She musta been one desperate chick. That or blind."

"Naw man, naw. She was hot."

"You're only eight, what the hell do you know about chicks?"

"'Aight, I'll tell ya. See, she was at the park, ya know? And it was the other day? I walked up to her cause I thought she was cute. And she was real cute, got this nice face and all. But she was struggling, you know, struggling? Cause you know, she had a real problem you see, she couldn't find her mommy. And I was like, I'll find her for you. She thanked me, and we talked a lot man. She told me a lot of stuff man. Lota crap. But anyways, like I said, she was hot, so I listened as we walked round the park. An' then she said she liked me. Get that! She liked me! She gave me a kiss man, it was so hot. So damn hot."

I tried not to laugh at how excited he was about it, yet another part of me wanted to slap him for being so innocent. Is that was he thinks getting laid means? He should know better by now.

Then again, Wheeze wasn't the brightest one of us here. Dizzy was smarter than him, and he was only six.

"Yeah, alright Wheeze. I get ya." I nod, keeping my face stone cold, "I hear ya." I bet ya it wasn't even a real kiss. It was probably just on the cheek or somethin'.

"You find her ma?"

"No, but she found her home. Her ma wasn't around, but her da was, and I got shooed away from the house when he come around. But the ma, I think she came back after a while. I hid behind some buildins and I saw a woman go into that chick's house, so yeah. She come home. Still, that da of hers shooed me man…" Wheeze looked down, his eyes downcast, thinking about his long lost love. I kind of pitied him, in a sense…

But I soon hardened up and gave him a grimace worth remembering.

"Hey, look at me. Alright? Good. Listen, don't you ever go fallin for a girl like that, ya hear?"

"What do ya mean?" Wheeze asked, his big black lips barely moving when he spoke. I could see the shock in his eyes, the puzzlement my statement had caused.

"A girl like that ain't for you, see? She's got a daddy and a mommy who take care of her, while you don't. She can never understand you. She ain't for you. Don't go chasin her." I could feel myself getting worked up, feel the heat rise under my skin. Wheeze looked down cause he knew I was right, and I could tell Butch and Boomer were listening without looking at them.

The sound of magazine papers flipping had stopped. And Boomer wasn't chewing like a cow on gummy bears anymore.

"Alright Brick." Wheeze nodded demurely, knowing he had to follow orders. He went and sat in the back with Dizzy and Hassle, out of my line of sight.

I was secretly glad I was in the front for once. Because no one could see my face. Not even Boomer would dare to look at me now, and he was the closest to me.

Wheeze, you don't want to fall in love. Not in this world. Not with this life.

Trust me kid, I'm doing you a favor…

A favor…

…

**P.O.V: Blossom**

"Alright girls, follow me! Uh, you can stay behind Buttercup, cause, you know..."

"Yup!" Buttercup smirked, still lounging in her chair, "I know what to do."

Tim smiled at her warmly while I pondered why the heck Buttercup knew this place so well. She didn't strike me as the volunteering type. To be honest.

"Come on, I'll show you two the back." Tim directed his attention to us now, and we followed him as he got up off the plastic chair he had sat on. I couldn't help but feel amazed at how malnourished the place looked; the walls were chipping and the ceiling had a couple of cracks in it. When Tim caught me staring at the ceiling he laughed.

"Yeah, that's what happens when this place is run by volunteers only. No money goes into it."

"You don't get paid?" I asked in puzzlement, a slight flush coming to my cheeks from getting caught staring at the ceiling. He nodded and looked in front of him again.

"Yup, that's right. We're volunteers here. I have a real job aside from this." He eased my worry for him with that statement, although I still couldn't believe he didn't get paid for spending so much time here.

"Alright girls, this is it. The pantry. To your right, we got cereal, one per person. One bag of rice, one bag of pasta, and one can of sauce. They can also get two cans of beans, and sardines if they're available. Let me see…no, we don't have sardines today. They also get one juice, one soup, and three milks. See that mini fridge over there? Yeah, that's where the milk is. They have the choice of skim, or 1%. Most choose 1%, but we always give them the choice. Uhhh…okay, to the left, we have some fresh produce. They can choose eight fruits in total, but only from two fruit groups. Like, uh, four apples, and four pears. Or eight apples, it's up to them.

"As far as the vegetables are concerned? They can only get two veggies. Like, potatoes or onions. Or broccoli. It depends on what they want. They can have four potatoes or so, and six onions, since these unions are just little bulbs. Um, only one broccoli if they choose that vegetable. Uhhh, let me see what's in this box…oh. Nothing. Guess I'll just remove that one after I'm done guiding you two. Um…oh hey Jackie! Say hello to two new volunteers." Tim suddenly stops abruptly as a woman with a stylish scarf, but frumpy sweatpants comes into the room.

She eyes us, her lower jaw slightly jutted out of portion, her eyes enlarged behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses.

"New volunteers?" she asks, processing this. Tim nods, a smile on his face. I can't help but stare at her shirt and think, _I'd never wear that ._It's a stained, blank grey t-shirt.

"Yup! Anything else I have to tell you guys? I'm thinking." Tim laughed, tapping his chin and looking up at the ceiling, "Oh, right! The carts."

"Carts?" I blink as he darts off towards the desk in front. I hadn't noticed them before, but these rusty looking carts were lined directly behind the desk in front, stuffed with black bags.

"Yeah, these are them!" Tim pats one of them, smiling at the both of us. Jackie swivels around us and goes to the desk. Her matching fuchsia sweatshirt is on the back of the chair and she puts it on without even so much as worrying about messing up her hair or glasses.

" What do we have to do with the carts?" Bubbles asks admirably and eagerly, "Do we get to help them shop around?"

"Essentially, yeah." Tim laughs lightly, even though I don't find the subject matter very funny, "that's what we call it here. Shopping."

"Shopping." I repeat to myself and look towards the bin of potatoes I'm standing next to. They're covered in dirt.

…

The first person I helped was an old man who could barely speak English. He was one of the first of several people to shovel into the food pantry when the doors opened at 3:30. I was astonished at how thin he was, how fragile his bones were compared to mine. I felt like I could see his skeleton even through his shirt.

I had wheeled him around the food pantry, asking him what he wanted and telling him what he could have. He had eyed the food with such enthusiasm and longing that it made my heart ache. I had wanted to take him back to my house and feed him until he became fat. I never felt so good when I placed the food into his cart. His wrinkly old smile, and the sincere twinkle to his eyes were enough reward for me.

When we arrived at the fresh produce, and he wanted potatoes, I dusted off all the dirt I possibly could from them before putting them into a black bag. Something told me he wouldn't have the strength or will to do it himself. At the end of the 'shopping' experience I helped him place his bags into his own cart. The same sort of cart you use to put laundry bags on and wheel them around.

And never have I felt such warmth from volunteering as I did when he told me thank you. All the other places I volunteered at…the people I've met and saw…they may have been sincere in their gratitude for my help, but this was different. So different.

And that's because this was _real._

And I loved it. I loved it with all my heart.

_Reviews are not required, but if you don't want to see the Boogieman tonight, I suggest you submit them. =) have a nice day.~ _


	5. Memories and Thoughts

_People! Welcome! Haha, sorry it took me so long to update. But you know how the holidays are. Anyways, thanks to all you reviewers out there! I really appreciate all the feedback and support I'm getting for this story! I hope you like this chapter, and please let me know of any ideas, thoughts, or opinions you have of the chapter and/or my writing skills! That would be most appreciated. ALSO…this chapter will give some backstory to a few of our characters, and add some substance to things. It's important for me to do this for plot buildup. ;) Hope you enjoy! Now…on with the story! =D_

_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE PPG OR THE RRB…THANKYOU. _

_REMINDER: THE RRB AND PGG ALL HAVE NORMAL FEATURES, LIMBS, AND HAVE NOSES. They also are all NORMAL- meaning NO SUPER POWERS. Sorry if this disappoints some of you!...And just because I think it'll be helpful to all of you: __**Brick is 18 and Blossom is soon to be 18. **__The other girls are like Blossom, while the other guys are like Brick. (same age as him). Hope that helped!_

_**Into The Bumblebee's Nest**_

_**Chapter 5: Memories and Thoughts **_

_**~Bubbles~**_

When Bubbles was just a little girl, she witnessed a murder right outside her front door. The woman who had been murdered was something of a saint, in the sense she was extremely docile and good willed. Why would anyone want to murder her? The question remained unanswered.

Even now.

The memory still haunts her to this very day. If she closed her eyes tight enough, if she was alone long enough, and if she didn't breath slow enough…she could remember it. Vividly too. There was a special on television Bubbles had once watched about false memories and how everyone has them; they develop over time and replace real memories with ones the person believes to be real.

But Bubbles knew in her heart of hearts this was no false memory. It was too powerful, too overwhelming to be.

The woman had been shot to death. She longed to remember the faces of the gang that did it…because sure enough, it had been a gang. A rugged looking pair too. She remembered the gun, pointed and trained on Mrs. Johnson- that had been her name- in all its eerie glory, shining metallically against broad day light.

How had no one stopped them? How had such a thing come to be? It was daylight; bad things don't happen during daylight. Only nighttime.

So she had thought.

No- bad things happen all the time. No matter who you are, or where you are. It had been the good section of town too.

Mrs. Johnson's body had been pulverized by the bullets, her body flung against the ground. Bubbles remembered watching the horrific scene, her dark crimson blood trailing down the street and into the sewer…

She could never forget such a scene. Never.

Yet…yet why didn't she see the shooter? Everything else was perfect in her memory. She remembered Dan's Candy shop on the corner being there; open for business, huge candid windows hinting to all sorts of delectable treats just out of reach. There had been that fancy wedding dress shop behind the scene as well, and Bubbles could recall the exact details of the dress on display without fail, even though she had never stepped foot in the shop per say. She could even remember the grocery store and its funky green and yellow commercial curtains she always hated looking at.

Yet she couldn't bring herself to remember the shooter. Nothing about him, other than the fact it _was_ a him. The irony of it all was aggravating when the cops came to question her 8 year old self not too long after the deed had been done. They had been oh so gentle and hopeful, being that kids are usually very honest.

Yet Bubbles could offer them nothing on their target, and it had infuriated her the most. The cops were more worried about the trauma she'd suffer from seeing such a brutal incident so close. Six bullet wounds to the chest and one to the head. Seven fatal gunshots. And it all happened right before Bubbles' clear blue, puppy dog eyes.

She tormented herself into trying to remember the shooter and his gang, but nothing popped up. She agonized about it day and night, trying so bad to think of something. Anything. Yet all she could remember was Mrs. Janson's blood soaked blonde hair and frightened brown eyes.

There was something though. Something else she recalled but had been too afraid to report at the time…

There had been a boy. No more than…seven. Yes, seven years old. He had fiery red hair and a dark shirt on when she saw him. _He_ was at the scene of the crime, that much she was certain of. Only problem was, she didn't want to tell the police that. What if she was wrong? What if she miscalculated? Besides, even if he was at the scene of the crime, it wasn't like he had pulled the trigger or anything. She had seen him running towards the shooter, hand outstretched, looking like he wanted to stop the inevitable from happening.

She didn't know who he was and she never saw him before that time or afterwards ever again.

All she knew was that face. All she knew was that he was there.

But it's a funny thing, how the mind works. Even to the most perfect memory, things become muddled with time.

So of course, at the time of the shooting, things had been accurate. The boy had been trying to prevent it, and at the time, Bubbles thought of him as her secret hero, trying to save the day or something.

But now? Even though her recall of the event was spot on, she had done something to make the memory in her mind more bearable. Even if it wasn't accurate. To ease the guilt she had for not remembering the real shooters face.

She replaced the shooter's face with _his_ face.

The boy with the fiery red hair…

…

_**~The Professor~**_

John Utonium. A man of science. A man to be remembered, idolized. A man whose last name has travelled across seas. A man who could afford to buy you and your family in a fraction of a second. A man who's good name alone could get him anywhere or anything. A man who hated his life. A man who wished things had been different. A man who wanted his wife back. His _real_ wife back…

Jewel…

No one could guess it from how the professor acted. He had fooled everyone, including himself, into believing he was happy. But was he really? No.

Jewel made him truly happy. Not Anna. Jewel made his world go 'round. Not Anna. Jewel made him want to be a better man. Not Anna.

So why had he married the woman in the first place? Anna, who he barely loved.

Simply to fill a hole he could never truly fill. He felt the need to marry, to provide Kendall with some sort of motherly love he could never substitute. Perhaps he should have made a better choice?

All the Professor knew was that Anna had been the only available option at the time. And he had been all than more willing to accept it.

He was pleased with his decision most days. It looked like Anna and Kendall got on well enough. They were always so polite to each other and never bickered. Anna would never hesitate to brag about Kendall when company was over, as if she were her own flesh and blood. And Anna was always very helpful in finding new volunteer opportunities for Kendall to take part in. In fact, she had located the volunteer opportunity Kendall seemed to adore at the hospital. So, yes, according to the Professor's standards, Anna made a very fitting mother indeed. However…

There was something about the way Kendall's eyes looked around Anna. Something that flickered inside them that made the Professor think, that maybe, just for a second, the Professor _hadn't _made such a good choice in betrothing Anna. What if Kendall didn't _really_ like Anna? What if she was merely putting up with her for the Professor's sake?

The thought made the Professor sulk about the house, when he allowed himself to suspect it at all.

One day, on the veranda, the Professor was sipping a glass of wine by his lonesome, mulling over precisely this exact thought. It was then that he remembered something he had almost forgotten: partially because any thoughts about Jewel made him want to bury himself in a cave and never come out again, and partially because he simply hadn't considered it.

Anna and Kendall never hugged. Now, albeit it was a small thing, he recalled how much Jewel had loved Kendall and fondled over her every chance she got. Tons of kisses, tons of hugs, tons of interaction commenced between the two. Kendall had eaten it up like any baby would with squeals of jubilation.

Although Kendall was a young woman now, doesn't a decent relationship require some interaction? Some _physical_ interaction? He was no one to judge, since he rarely hugged Kendall himself, but this was mainly because he was always too busy for it. Anna was not. She lounged around the house all day long, drinking champagne and smoking cigarettes to her hearts content.

He even once read an article about how important physical interaction is between mother, father, and child. Without it, humans become antisocial creatures, and even worse, babies who lack it can die.

But Kendall was a sprouting young woman. What was he so worried about? The thoughts that went through his head puzzled him sometimes.

Yet still, on nights that were warm enough to allow him to sneak out of his bed and onto the veranda, he would allow himself to think about Jewel beneath the blanket of stars above him. What kind of mother would she have made to Kendall in her teen years? The professor would ask the nighttime sky. Only, he would never know the answer. Not now.

Because she died. And the dead can't answer questions.

And because of this, he allowed himself to weep. But only a little, for fear of Anna looming in the shadows…

_Review and I'll make a money tree grow in your backyard…and if you don't have a backyard- your room will do nicely. ;) _


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